Sunday Night Rolls Around Again

I've been at work all day, but hell, there's always room for some drama at the end of the day. Received an email from the ex who wants to talk now after the emotional steam roller he ran over me the other weekend. Go figure. And on Saturday night I went to my least favourite restaurant in the whole of Wellington - Monsoon Poon (please read name of restaurant in tones of doom). First of all, how racist and sexist is that name?!? This is neatly reinforced by their dinky little motto thingy they have printed all over the place "Love you long time". We arrived for the meal at 7.30 - they don't take bookings so of course we were expected to sit in the bar and spend a shit load on booze. We were told to expect a wait of 40 minutes - try an hour and a half!!! When we were finally seated, just before eight thirty maybe, we spent a fucking shit load of time explaining to the wait person that we didn't want to order a banquet. Having finally ordered, the starters didn't come out until quarter past nine, at ten I walked out because I was so freaking starving and pissed off with the relentless and tacky music and my food still hadn't arrived. Their appeared to be no sign of it coming any time soon. I could see the kitchen staff (the kitchen is open) and they were most frustratingly POTTERING about in there. Potter on your own time! I thought... I hate Monsoon Poon. I loathe everything about it. The only meal that I've ever eaten there was unremarkable, the only thing memorable about that experience was that our food arrived before our drinks, they were so desperate to get us out quickly and use our table to make more money off of other idiots in larger groups. Mutter mutter mutter. Who calls a place Monsoon Poon anyway?